


Cool

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first meeting between the Cat and the Owl, was not on a volleyball court. They hadn’t first spied each other through the net and recognised a kindred spirit at a glance. It wasn’t at school either, neither had bothered to find out which school the other attended because their friendship had not been based on mundanities like that. </p>
<p>Their paths had crossed in the most unlikely of ways, when both were fugitives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cool

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Czadowo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357704) by [wrappedinchocolateblankets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrappedinchocolateblankets/pseuds/wrappedinchocolateblankets)



> I wrote this for a challenge on tumblr, I think. Um, it's fun and lighthearted, which is what I need at the moment, so if you read, I hope it makes you smile.

“Something has to be done!” Kuro’s mum had insisted. “You don’t brush it properly, and I’m scared of what I’ll find in that nest of yours. Probably full of broken teeth.”

“Teeth?” Kuro was puzzled. “No one’s bitten me.”

“From a comb, you silly boy!” she groaned. “This is ridiculous. I can’t get a brush through it. I don’t understand why you won’t take care of it. You’re ten, Tetsurou, and taking care of your hair is the least I should be able to expect from you.  It would be so much easier if you’d only brush it twice a day. Or once a day. Once a week, even.” She tugged again, this time with exasperation and menace.

“OW!” he pulled away from her. “Mum, leave me alone! No one cares about hair.”

“Why can’t you be like Kenma-chan?” she said sighing. “He has lovely smooth hair. Shiny and soft, not like this ... Ughh, MESS!”

“I dunno,” he said, and shrugged. The fact that Kenma was being used again as an example of how he should behave was starting to irritate him, even though he knew it wasn’t Kenma’s fault.

(‘He’s such a quiet boy.  I bet Kenma never breaks vases, Tetsurou! I doubt he’s a worry to his mother, coming home with new scrapes and bruises everyday!’)

_Because he doesn’t move, MUM!_   he wanted to shout. Kenma let his mum brush his hair because he rarely realised she was there. His eyes always focused on a screen, he was never aware of anything around him

(‘I bet Tetsurou talks when his mother asks a question. I never know if he’s here half the time, Surou-chan. And you got another top mark at school your mother tells me. I wish Kenma would get his head in his books instead of -)

Kuro sometimes wondered if he and Kenma should swap places. It might make their mums happier.

 

“You won’t catch him wriggling away when his mother needs to brush his hair. STAY STILL!” She reached out to grab his arm, but Kuro dodged her and ran to the door.

“TETSURO KUROO, COME BACK HERE!”

“NO!” he yelled back, and with a cheeky smile and a wave dashed out of the back door.

As he ran down the garden, scaling the rickety fence (and scraping his knee in his urgent need to flee) he wondered whether to drag Kenma out to play, but Kenma needed a lot of persuasion when he was stuck in a game, and persuasion took time, which Kuro didn’t have. Metaphorically kicking himself for not picking up a ball from the garden, he sped on to the park.

No, bad idea. His mum would search the park first – and she might use the car. He’d have to be cleverer than that.

Changing direction he ran on, deciding to head for his school. There was a play area in the field behind it, someone might have a ball, or maybe he’d play in the stream – there were plenty of gaps in the fence he could squeeze through.

“What you doing?”

“Huh?” He slowed his pace, just a little, and looked round, but he couldn’t see anyone.

“Where you going?”

“What’s it to you?” Kuro asked warily, still unsure where the voice was coming from.

“You running from someone?”

“Might be.” Kuro frowned. “Where are you?”

“Up here,” said the voice.

Kuro raised his eyes and saw a pair of shiny shoed encased feet dangling from a branch overhead, and a wide-eyed boy’s face peering through the leaves.  “What are you doing in a tree?”

“Hiding,” declared the boy in a very loud voice. “Don’t want to be found.”

“Who from?”

“Granny,” the boy replied. “She’s after me. It’s a’right, though, ‘cause I got snacks and can stay here for years.” He scuffed his shoes against the tree trunk, causing one to fall to the ground.  The boy yelped. “NO, NO, I’ve left a clue. She’ll find me.”

Kuro picked up the shoe. It must have been a new because the leather was stiff, and the scuffmarks inflicted by the boy’s kicks were the only ones on it.

“I could bring it up to you.”

“Cooool.” The boy’s eyes were round. “That would be kind.”

Kuro thought about it. Yeah, it was kind; he could be kind.  And the boy had food. “But only if you let me hide up there with ya.”

The boy gnawed his lower lip. “We’d have to go further up. Can you climb?”

“Like a cat,” Kuro replied, and before the boy could reconsider, he reached up, found a foothold, and swung his legs up to the lower branch.

He climbed further, following the boy as he wriggled to a much sturdier branch, about half way up.

“Bokuto Koutarou,” the boy said, holding out his hand. Then he examined his hand, wiped it on his shorts, and held it out again.

“Kuro, nice to meet ya,” Kuro replied. He grinned at the boy, taking an immediate liking to the beaming smile and hair that looked as if it hadn’t seen a hairbrush in a week.

“Whoa, cool name. Is it real?”

“Yeah, I’m a special agent. Kuro-the-Cat,” he joked, waiting for the boy – Bokuto Kou-something – to laugh.

But he didn’t. His mouth gaped open. “Really?”

“Uh ... sure. There’s ... um ... a team of bad guys after me.”

“That’s so co-”

“Cool, yeah, I get it.” Feeling his stomach complaining, Kuro licked his lips. “So ... where are these snacks?”

“Oh... uh ... hold on.” replied Bokuto. He pulled on a rope, and flopped a carrier bag on his lap.

Kuro peered inside. “Is that it?” he asked, staring down at the crisps and bubble gum.

“Oh, no, I got biscuits, too,” replied Bokuto, grinning at him. “And this is a cherry tree, so we can eat them.”

“It’s April,” Kuro stated as he studied the tree, noting the blossom about to bloom. “There won’t be any cherries for months.”

Bokuto’s face fell; he pushed his bottom lip out, and screwed up his eyes. “I-I-I didn’t know that,” he said. Sniffing, he rubbed his nose on his sleeve. “I thought I’d be all right and could stay here forever.”

While Bokuto was staring at his feet, Kuro helped himself to a packet of crisps. “Why are you hiding from your Gran?” he asked, after he’d crunched his way through half a bag. “Is she mean to ya?”

“She bought me shoes,” he said and stuck the foot that still had the shoe on out in front of him. “They hurt.”

“Prob’ly need wearing in,” Kuro said, repeating something his mom said, when he complained about new clothes or shoes. “Why’s she buyin’ you shoes?”

Bokuto scowled deeper. “’Cause I lost my other pair. There was this tree, you see, and I climbed it, but my shoe fell off when I got to the top, and ... uh ... I sort of thought that if I dropped the other one, then I’d see where it landed and the other shoe would be with it. Like they’d find each other, ‘cause pairs do that, don’t they?”

“What?”

“Pairs,” Bokuto repeated. “Things like to be in pairs, don’t they?  Like pairs of socks, or shoes, or gloves, or owls.”

“Owls?” Kuro stared at Bokuto and for the first time since he’d met him, started to wonder if the boy was completely mad.

“MMMM,” nodded Bokuto, his eyes alight with joy. “Owls are cool. They come out at night, and they hunt, and they live in trees.” He twitched his head from side to side. “I like owls. They have cool beaks, and pointy ears and talons and ...” He peered closer “... they hoot.”

“Yeah ... right,” Kuro said and edged away. Except he couldn’t go that far because the branch was bendier the further along he shuffled.

“I’m doing a project on owls at school.”

“You do go to school, then?” Kuro said gravely.

Bokuto nodded, oblivious to the sarcasm. “Oh yes. I like school. I like the class projects and the sport. And I like lunch. Lunch is cool. We have fish on Monday, chicken on Tues-”

“SPORT!” Kuro yelled, before this odd boy gave him the whole week’s menu. “Whatya play?”

“Uh...” Bokuto stared at him oddly, as if it should be obvious. “Volleyball.”

Kuro smiled. It wasn’t a sly grin or a smirk, but a smile of genuine pleasure. “Me, too.”

“That’s so -”

“Cool?” Kuro supplied, and laughed. “Yeah, it is. I’m like a Middle Blocker at the moment, and I’ve got this friend who plays, too. He doesn’t like it much, but he’s pretty good.”

“Doesn’t like volleyball?” It was as if the words didn’t compute. Bokuto shook his head violently. “But it’s brilliant. I’m a Wing Spiker, and I spike all the time. Getting past blockers is so cool. I can jump above them all, and they don’t know what I’m gonna do, and then I crash the ball past them and it’s just ... it’s like ... it’s the best, best, best feeling in the world. Like ... like ...I can fly.”

Kuro stared at him, getting totally caught up in Bokuto’s enthusiasm. Kenma wasn’t like this. Kenma shrugged and attended practise, along with the others who went along because it was a club activity. But none of them understood. None of them got just how important volleyball was, and how Kuro felt when he blocked a spike, or when he made a good serve, or managed to hit something in bounds.

“Aww, man, we gotta have a game,” he said, jiggling up and down on the branch.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be cool and we could –” He stopped speaking, the light dulling from his eyes. “But my mum’s had the baby, so I’m going back home tomorrow.  And aren’t you on the run from the bad guys?”

“Huh?  Oh ... er ... yeah ... them.” He glanced to the right, pretending to scan the street. “I think I lost them. This is a great hiding place.”

“Mmm.” Bokuto sighed. “I should go back now. Granny said she’d make me something special for tea.”

“Oh...” Kuro couldn’t think of anything else to say. Feeling dejected, he watched as Bokuto climbed down the tree.

“Kuro?”

“Mmm?”

“C’n I have my shoe? Only it’s part of a pair, and Granny will be mad if I return without it.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, and threw it down where it landed at Bokuto’s feet. Part of a pair.

“Good luck with the bad guys,” Bokuto said, raising his hand to wave.

“Good luck with ... uh ... the owls,” Kuro replied.

Then Bokuto grinned. “We’ll have a match sometime, Kuro-the -Cat. I’m gonna spike past all your blocks, though, ‘cause owls fly real high.”

“Well, cats can jump, Bokuto, so I’m gonna stop your spikes,” retorted Kuro, but he grinned back. “Look forward to it, Bokuto-the-Owl!”

“Oh boy!” Bokuto whispered, sounding excited. “That makes me sound cool.”

“You are,” Kuro insisted. “Real cool!”


End file.
